Where's Toby?
by LinkehCrescent
Summary: It's a windy day, and where in the world could Toby have run off to? Sweenett.


It was a very blustery day in London. Bulletins flew from their boards and flew down the street like tumbleweeds in the desert. It was incredibly dark outside, though the ticking clock mounted above the door of Mrs. Lovett's Meat Pie Emporium insisted that it was barely past noon. The owner of the shop quickly scrambled to the door as it was blown open once again by one of the forces of nature. Flour blew everywhere, and the woman cursed under her breath.

"TOBY!" she screamed, pushing the door shut. "Where is that boy?"

She slammed the bolt into the door, keeping it shut. The wind battered mercilessly against it, trying to fight the strong piece of metal, but to no avail.

She hadn't locked the door to begin with because the barber was still upstairs. In her mind, he had now had enough time to come down if he wanted to. Apparently he didn't know that it was safer downstairs then up when the weather was like this.

"Toby!" she called again, this time her tone a little less aggravated. "Where are you, love?"

It was extremely unusual for the boy not to respond to her right away. She checked the parlor, but the boy wasn't there. She moved down the hallway, checking Todd's room, checking Todd's closet, checking under the bed.

"Nothin's gonna 'arm you, love. The weather ain't that bad!"

Still, she received no response. She poked her head into her bedroom, still not seeing the boy. She flicked about her room, again checking underneath the bed and other hidey holes.

"Where is 'e?" she repeated, a hint of worry gracing her tone. She glided back into the parlor and looked around. "Toby?!"

But the boy was not in the house.

Mrs. Lovett ran to the door, staring contemplating at it for a moment before unbolting it and quickly running out into the wind. The skirt of her dress immediately caught in the wind, and she had to grab at it to keep it from blowing up. She hurried up the stairs and saw the door to the barber shop swinging open and closed madly. She rushed into the shop, almost getting hit by the door and firmly bolted it behind her.

"Mr. T!" He was standing at the window, razor in hand, watching the wind blow items around in the street. He turned as he caught the worry and anxiety in her voice.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing her hands which were still clenched tightly around the fabric of her dress. She stumbled towards him, stopping when they were about a foot away.

"I can't find the boy," she replied, her voice cracking slightly. "I've checked everywhere, but I just can't find 'im. Please, Mr. Todd, tell me you've seen 'im, or come down and 'elp me look."

"I haven't seen the boy, love." He turned back to the window, not wanting to see the tears that he knew would soon begin. He saw them welling up in the corner of her eyes, and he hated seeing her cry. It made him think of the last time he had seen his Lucy...

The barber flipped around as the pie-maker touched his arm, having already forgotten she was there. She jumped at the normal anger spread across his face, already paranoid.

"Please, Mr. Todd, come 'elp me look. You aren't safe up 'ere anyway." He felt her warm fingers wrap around his cold arm. The room was freezing, since the door had been open and letting the air in. He sighed and left the room, with Mrs. Lovett trailing behind him.

Even though they both searched the house furiously, the young boy was still nowhere to be found. Mrs. Lovett was turning the corner into her parlor from the hallway when Sweeney grabbed her and thrust her against the wall.

"He hasn't found out, has he?" he hissed to her, and his closeness made her heart stop for a moment. She had to take several deep breaths before she could respond.

"No, there's no way 'e could've, love.▓e's just a boy, an' I've kept 'im out of the cellar." She sounded certain on the fact, even though her response had been slow.

"Could he have gotten into the cellar by himself?" His tone was less harsh and just a whisper this time.

"The door's solid iron, love. I can barely lif' the bar; don't think 'e could manage it, but you can go check if you like." He kept her pinned to the wall for a moment longer, and half of her wished he would forget about the boy and relish in the closeness like she was currently doing. The other half told her that there was plenty of time for that later and that they needed to find the boy now.

"I'll go check." He let her go, and she almost cried for him to come back, but instead she just raised an eyebrow.

"You do that, love. I'll be 'ere, in case 'e comes back."

It wasn't long before the man returned, shaking his head.

"Bar's in place on the outside. He's not it there."

"Then where could 'e possibly be?" questioned Mrs. Lovett, feeling the tears beginning to form drops at the corner of her eyes.

"I... I don't know." He winced as she threw her arms around him, burying her head into his chest and sobbing audibly. He wrapped his arms around her, not exactly the right person to give her the comfort he wanted.

"Easy, now. Hush love, hush," he whispered to her, repeating the words she had said to him so long ago. "We'll find him."

It wasn't like he felt any emotion behind what he said; he just wanted her to stop crying. Soon she had pulled herself together enough to quit crying, and instead she rested her cheek against his chest.

"What if someone got 'im?" she whispered.

"Why would someone want to kidnap a work boy?" said Sweeney, rubbing her back lightly. He liked the way she felt against him. "He's probably run off. He'll be back tomorrow."

She sniffled lightly. His hand on her back was quickly replacing her worry with happiness, and she closed her eyes, sighing lightly.

"You're probably right, love.▓e'll come back when he gets hungry."

They stood there together for a few long minutes, until the clock in the kitchen struck four o'clock. She hadn't realized how long they had been searching.

"I don' think I'm going to open up shop today, Mr. T," she told him, looking up at the barber. "No one's going to be out in this weather."

He nodded once to show his agreement, and looked away before he caught the playful sparkle in her eye.

"So, what are we going to do, Mr. T? I 'ave to say I'm not going to let you go back up into that shop."

He raised an eyebrow at her.

"And how would you stop me from going up into my shop, love?" he questioned, knowing exactly what she was going for.

"I'll knock you out with me rolling pin," she replied instantly, once again resting her cheek against his chest.

"Is that a threat?"

"I 'ave to say it t'is."

"You can't have a threat if you don't have anything to back it up with." As he spoke, he reached for his razor, but the woman was too quick for him. In a moment, he had her back forcefully pressed to him and his right arm wrapped around her throat. Her hands clicked the razor open.

"Looks like I 'ave something to back it up with, 'ey love?" She had to whisper since she could barely get any words out at all with his arm wrapped around her neck. "Don't make me chop your arm off."

The way she was trying to be threatening amused him. True, she did have his razor, but he had her in a vice like grip. There wasn't much she could do.

"You might have to do just that," he replied to her, loosening his grasp enough to let her breathe freely, but not enough for her to manage to slip away. He grabbed her right wrist in with his left hand, and felt the cool metal blade pressed to the back of his hand.

"Let go, love," she whispered, trying to sound menacing. She stood silently for a moment, and she didn't catch on to what he was doing until it was too late.

He kissed her gently, right below her ear. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, and her eyes closed as she felt his nose graze seductively down her neck. Her grip on the razor loosened, giving him the opportunity to slip it out of her hand.

"So easily distracted," he whispered to her, his breath warm on her ear. She opened her hazel colored eyes to find herself weaponless and at the barber's mercy.

She attempted to a grab at the razor that he now held, but he kept it just out of her reach. She struggled against his hold on her, but after a few minutes stopped.

"Okay, you got me. Now what're you gonna do?" she said icily, clearly not as amused as he was.

"This." He tossed the razor aside, and it thankfully landed on the couch and didn't break any of the various knick knacks that were crammed into the room. He spun her around to face him and pressed his lips to her own, this time meaning the affection instead of just faking it to get what he wanted.

Mrs. Lovett had not expected it, but reveled in the moment. He was letting her in. She now understood why she always used to hear shrieking coming from the house fifteen years ago, when Benjamin and Lucy had resided in it.

The way he kissed her, it made her want to shriek with pleasure, but she had enough control not to.

"Mum! I got the gin like you wanted me to!" Toby walked in on the moment, his innocent brown eyes growing wide. The woman immediately pulled away, trying to act surprised to see the boy.

"Oh! There you are Toby! I was so worried!" She ran over to him and hugged him, taking the bottle of gin from his hands.

"But... Mrs. Lovett, you sent me to get this gin.... even though the weather's crazy." The boy's tone betrayed her plot to get her and Sweeney alone together.

"Hush, love, hush. Next time, don't run off without my permission."

"But... but... but..."

She patted the boy on the head, not really looking at the barber, who was glaring at her. She quickly ushered the boy out of the parlor and into the kitchen, saying she'd give him a nice cup of the gin.

She didn't catch the smile that inched its way across the man's face as he shook his head at her.

Mrs. Lovett was really something else. 


End file.
